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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23654071">Witcher of Convenience</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/operacricket/pseuds/operacricket'>operacricket</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Excessive Swearing, Jealous Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Lambert is a loveable asshole, M/M, No Strings Attached, Prompt Fill</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:01:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,043</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23654071</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/operacricket/pseuds/operacricket</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lambert's not sure what Geralt did to get the bard so full of spite, but he's not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. </p><p>Prompt fill:<br/>After the dragon mountain, Jaskier is hurt by Geralt’s outburst.<br/>Then he’s pissed.<br/>Angry and cradling a broken heart (not that Geralt knows, the unobservant but beautiful bastard) when he finds another wolf Witcher in a tavern he gets a bit too open about his feelings.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>(temporary) - Relationship, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1331</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Geralt is Sorry, Geralt x Jaskier, Jaskier or Geralt/others (with or w/out eachother), Just.... So cute..., Witcher Kink Meme (Dreamwidth)</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Witcher of Convenience</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a second fill for the above prompt because even writing this in a single hazy shot wasn't fast enough for such a fun prompt. </p><p>Read the other AMAZING fill here: https://witcherkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/429.html?thread=341933</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The bard singing the familiar song had a bite in his voice and a wicked, spiteful grin on his face.</p><p>Lambert had ignored him when the noisy man had first entered the tavern, more interested in drinking and eating and getting the fuck out before anyone got up in arms about the Witcher in their midst, but it was hard not to notice the colorful songbird or the vicious words he was trilling. </p><p>He knew the song--of course he knew the fucking song. It had followed him around the continent and shifted the minds of people everywhere, until they started tossing coins instead of throwing stones.</p><p>He didn’t know these verses though.</p><p>
  <i>You know the tales they sing<br/>Of valor and glory<br/>Now hear of Geralt of Rivia’s<br/>Latest sad story</i>
</p><p>
  <i>When the White Wolf fought<br/>He shed a single tear<br/>Trembled in his boots<br/>As his foe drew near</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He looked for escape<br/>Bent to cower low <br/>Before the pretty maid<br/>Taking every blow</i>
</p><p><i>She shouted out her slight <br/>The unfulfilling deed<br/>His failure to </i>rise<i> to<br/>The occasion of her need</i></p><p>The crowd roared with laughter at the words and lewd accompanying gesture. They joined in the chorus and cheered the bard along in his vicious re-penning of his own song. The next verse was just as bad, and the audience lapped it up. Gesturing with one hand for them to shout louder, he slammed back his tankard (not the first Lambert had watched him down since he started his set) and let them sing the next chorus for him. </p><p>Several more verses painted Geralt vividly as impotent, a coward and an idiot, before the bard excused himself, claiming a need to rest his voice. </p><p>Lambert grabbed two ales from the bar and crossed to him, preempting the bard's call for another by slamming a tankard in front of his nose. A bit of the golden liquid splashed up the side, and he smirked with satisfaction when the bard jolted upright. </p><p>“What’d the mighty, shit-for-brains White Wolf do to get your petticoats in a twist?” </p><p>Jaskier’s eyes drew to his and then dropped to the medallion. He grimaced and waved a hand dismissively. “I’m not in the mood for Witchers right now. Move along.”</p><p>Despite significant alcohol intake, his movements were steady and his speech un-slurred. He wasn’t scared, even a lick. He smelled of anger and smoke and booze, but no fear. It was dizzying. </p><p>“Sorry, I just heard a damn hour of you ripping my dumbass brother a new one and thought you might want to talk shit. I am well fucking aware of what an insufferable prick Geralt of Rivia can be.” Lambert dropped into the seat across from him without waiting to be invited. “At least let me buy you enough ale to wipe him from your brain. <i>Some</i> of us are grateful for the coin you got tossed our way. Lambert,” he added, stretching out a hand.</p><p>“Jaskier,” he answered, taking it.</p><p> </p><p>Lambert slammed the bard against the wall, unable to wait to get to the room. He smelled fucking divine. </p><p>“Fucking twenty years I followed him,” Jaskier panted when Lambert’s lips traveled from his lips and he began scraping his teeth at the delicate skin of his throat. </p><p>“Mm--”</p><p>“Twenty years!”</p><p>“Yeah, I heard you the first time,” he growled, pulling Jaskier up the short flight of steps and kicking at the door. “And it can’t have been that long. You’d have been a fucking toddler.” Hungry eyes appraised the lean body trembling in front of him.</p><p>“I have good genes,” he sniffed, following after Lambert to press against him.</p><p>“I’d say so," he snorted and palmed him through his breeches. "Get the fuck in here.”</p><p>The second the door closed, Lambert was on him again, tugging at his clothes and ignoring the protests in defense of the fabric. The only thing he was gentle about removing was the lute, and even that got tossed aside with just enough delicacy to not break the thing.</p><p>His teeth scraped against Jaskier’s pulse point, his pointed canines just a matter of pressure away from spilling his lifeblood. And still there was no fear. He smelled like want and sunshine and the dusty road. </p><p>“Shitting hell, I could fucking eat you. He must never have been able to get his fill.” </p><p>The bard stilled under his hands. “He never--”</p><p>Lambert froze, lips on his skin. “<i>Never?</i>”</p><p>Jaskier shook his head. </p><p>“Fuuuuck, then he’s a bigger idiot than I thought.”</p><p>“Let’s not talk about him, okay?”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>Jaskier yelped a little when Lambert hoisted him up, but the spiking scent of arousal and the following wrap of his legs around his waist spurred him on. He crossed the room, kicking off his boots as he went, and dumped the bard out on the worn inn bed. </p><p> </p><p>It turned out that bards put Witchers to shame with the skill of their fingers and that there didn’t seem to be anywhere Jaskier wasn’t willing to put his mouth.</p><p>“Yes--fuck! Yes, like that. You’re so fucking good at that. Shit!” Each word was met by an answering groan as Lambert’s hips stuttered and his fingers dug into Jaskier’s scalp. How he managed to be so damn noisy with Lambert’s cock down his throat would remain a mystery, but Lambert decided to make it his goal to wring as many sounds from the squawking songbird as he could</p><p>“Come on,” Jaskier chided, a wet smack of his lips his only response as Lambert thrust emptily against the air with a gasped protest of <i>joyless cocktease!</i> “Don’t make me write about your limp dick next. Show me what that Witcher stamina is good for.”</p><p>Lambert growled and flipped the both of them, knocking Jaskier’s breath out with the force of the slam against the mattress. His growl turned to a moan when one hand dropped and found that the bard had already worked himself open, some time between biting his lip and sucking his dick. Jaskier grinned at him smugly. </p><p>Not one to waste a perfectly nice gift, he drove into him, burying to the hilt in one quick motion that made Jaskier keen. </p><p>Jaskier babbled a litany of curses and praises (“Right there, oh gods, that’s perfect--fuck!”), a lyric symphony accompanied by the rhythmic beat of the headboard against the wall. </p><p>“Does he know how well you fucking sing, popinjay?" Lambert grunted. "Every peep makes me so fucking hard, and I bet you know it. <i>Melitele’s tits</i>, no wonder you don’t ever shut up.”</p><p>“You’re one to talk,” Jaskier gasped, crying loudly on the tail end of the words. “I thought Witchers were supposed to be--uhn!--supposed to be stoic.”</p><p>“No, that’s just the great white whipping boy.”</p><p>“Lambert,” Jaskier snarled. “Shut up and fuck me harder.”</p><p> </p><p>In the morning, they parted ways with friendly smiles and very few words. Jaskier was headed off to someplace that didn’t involve Witchers, and Lambert still had to collect his pay and ask around for word of the next hunt.</p><p>That should have been that. </p><p>He’d hardly been on the road ten minutes, though, when a commotion reached him from somewhere just beyond the next curve. Despite his instinct not to get involved--the voices growling at each other were definitely human--his choice was taken from him when a cry in a voice he'd recently become intimately acquainted with carried through the trees. He swung himself out of the saddle, already halfway between the trees before the echo died out.</p><p>Cleaning up Geralt’s mess. Saving his goddamn bard. Fucker.</p><p>Jaskier didn’t seem any worse for wear, maybe a little scuffed or--no, that bruise Lambert had put there. Nothing out of place. He was holding a dagger, which was cute given the number of men surrounding him, but he was holding it wrong.</p><p>With a put upon air, Lambert slunk out of the trees and rested his steel blade against the nearest bandit’s neck. </p><p>“Now, is that any way to act when you’re in the presence of greatness?”</p><p>The two nearest the one he was threatening sprang. The sword bobbed with the movement of the throat it touched as that one said, “The bard isn’t--”</p><p>“I was talking about me.” Lambert smirked, slicing the sword away with a hot spray, and threw himself gleefully into the fight. </p><p>It was too brief for his tastes, but that was probably for the best. The night before had been athletic and he had been hoping for a lazy day of travel. </p><p>The men fell quickly under his sword, and, when most of them lay at his feet, the last bandit standing made the smart but too late decision to turn tail and run. </p><p>“Can I borrow this?” Lambert asked, snagging the dagger from Jaskier’s hand. “Thanks.” He whipped it through the air, sinking it between the fleeing man’s ribs and watching him sprawl bonelessly to the ground. With a nod--that was that--he scanned the settling stillness and then turned back to the bard. “You’re absolutely useless with that. Did Geralt teach you nothing?”</p><p>“Normal people can’t win a fight six to one.”</p><p>Lambert shrugged. “That’s no excuse.”</p><p>“Great. Yeah. All right, fine, I’ll take that under consideration. Thank you, Lambert.” He stepped over to collect his knife, wiping it gingerly on the ground and then gathering his things. When he started back down the road, Lambert whistled for his horse and began leading her after him. </p><p>“What are you doing?”</p><p>“I’m taking you to Oxenfurt.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“It’s what? A week, two weeks tops? I’m just going to go ahead and walk you there. Easier than finding out you got murdered on the road or taken by Nilfgaard or something. Just saving time in the long run.”</p><p>“Uh, right. I did not ask you to do that.”</p><p>“You sure didn’t. Should have. It’s fine. I can be magnanimous.”</p><p> </p><p>After nearly five nights of traveling, fucking and increasingly vindictive versions of <i>Toss a Coin</i>, Jaskier played something that shook Lambert out of his drunken amusement. </p><p><i>Her Sweet Kiss</i>, it was called, and by the end the bard sounded gutted.</p><p>Oh, <i>fuck</i> Geralt.</p><p>Idiot prick.</p><p>Jaskier was in <i>love</i> love.</p><p>And for some reason, that made Lambert furious.</p><p>He liked Jaskier. </p><p>The bard was funny and brave and intensely petty.  He could keep up, both on foot--not an easy task--and in verbal sparring matches. He had a good head on his shoulders, for all that he was even more likely to get in a bar fight than Lambert himself, and he could talk an army into walking themselves off a cliff if just given enough time. </p><p>Geralt had no right to say the things he had to someone like this. He’d been given a shot at something rare and <i>good</i>. Witchers didn't get that often, and he’d thrown it in the shitter because of some sorceress bitch.</p><p>That night, when he took Jaskier up to his room, he was soft with him, not demanding or taking, just pushing him gently down into the pillows. It wasn't something he was good at, but he kissed and gave and took care of him until they were both panting and crying out. </p><p>Of course, he had to kick him out of bed after, just to be clear where they stood, but with the shit Geralt had put him through, the bard deserved a little softness as a treat.</p><p> </p><p>It took two weeks to reach Oxenfurt. </p><p>“If you’re ever in the area…” Jaskier offered, and Lambert agreed jovially, though they both knew he’d never take him up on it. </p><p>Jaskier was good company and damn good in bed, but it was all borrowed time. They were both well aware that this wasn’t a thing either of them wanted to continue. Lambert had no interest in taking a partner, and Jaskier would never really be able to move on. Not with <i>his</i> Witcher on his mind and Geralt’s name on his lips.</p><p>“See you around, bard. Try to have better sense about which dicks you go chasing. You have terrible taste.”</p><p> </p><p>Geralt showed up at Kaer Mohren with a child, of all godsforsaken things.</p><p>At least her age meant that his companion had a bedtime, and eventually, as the hours grew later, it was just the four of them sitting up around the hearth. Gwent was spread out in front of them, and Eskel had a knife out, flipping it absent mindedly while he thought.</p><p>A relaxed sort of evening. </p><p>For now.</p><p>Lambert pulled out his kit to polish his sword, and of course no one paid him any mind. The silver spread on his lap already gleamed, but he poured a little oil on the soft rag he used for buffing it and began working the still brightly colored bit of fabric over the metal. Once a piece of a fine doublet, it had managed to retain some of its original garishness and, to Lambert’s delight, its previous owner’s smell. </p><p>Geralt’s hand shot out and caught Lambert’s wrist. “Where did you get that?”</p><p>Lambert shrugged in exaggerated carelessness. “Picked it up. Used to be part of a doublet.”</p><p>“I <i>know</i>,” Geralt snarled, “What it used to be. How did you end up with it?”</p><p>“Well, the doublet was pretty much shredded by the time it was all said and done. No reason not to put good fabric to use.”</p><p>“What happened? The bard--”</p><p>“Oh, the bard is fine. The doublet was the only thing that suffered when I tore all his clothes off and fucked him into the next week.”</p><p>For a moment, it looked like Geralt was going to deck him. Instead, he just jerked his hand back and looked away. </p><p>“Talented mouth, that one,” he added, just to rub it in and went back to cleaning the sword. </p><p>Eskel cleared his throat. “You slept with Geralt’s bard?”</p><p>“Not Geralt’s anymore, isn’t that right, oh White Wolf?” Lambert asked. “How are those blessings working out for you?”</p><p>He grinned like the cat that got the canary--or the lark--at Geralt’s retreating back and looked forward to an entire winter of gloating and oversharing. </p><p> </p><p>“Are you going to go to Jaskier?” Lambert asked.</p><p>Geralt shrugged. The snow was hardly clear, but he was packing Ciri onto Roach’s back to “get a head start” finding somewhere else safe for them</p><p>Lambert narrowed his eyes at him. “Then maybe I will. He invited me to come back to Oxenfurt.” He watched Geralt’s shoulders stiffen and smirked. “Yeah, maybe that’ll be fun. If you don’t want him, then you can have fun picturing me nailing him into the mattress every time you hear Toss a--”</p><p>Geralt’s fist met his face, months of restraint finally snapped, and the force that took Lambert sprawling to the stone was worth it. </p><p> </p><p>“You slept with Lambert.”</p><p>Jaskier jumped, cursing, and turned to glare at Geralt. “Did you break into my house?”</p><p>“Did you fuck my brother?”</p><p>“You have no say in who I sleep with. I, on the other hand, have a say on who is in my house, fuck.”</p><p>They stood glaring at each other in a silence that Jaskier refused to be the one to break. The nerve of some Witchers.</p><p>Eventually Geralt growled his displeasure and gritted out, “<i>Lambert?</i> Of all people, why him?”</p><p>“Don’t know. He was there.” </p><p>“Were you trying to make me jealous?”</p><p>“What? No.” Jaskier gaped and sputtered. “I mean--<i>what?</i> Not everything is about you, Geralt.” Then, a little quieter. “Did I?”</p><p>“What do you think?”</p><p>“I think you wanted me ‘off your hands’ after twenty years of friendship. I think you could have had me any time you wanted, but you had your head too far up your ass. I think you have <i>no right</i> to think anything either way about me and Lambert, even if we had been more than a convenient bed warmer to each other. Which we weren't.”</p><p>“I didn’t mean that. Jaskier, please. You know I didn’t mean that.”</p><p>“Yeah, you did.”</p><p>“No, I--” Geralt turned on his heel, tearing a hand through his hair in frustration. </p><p>Jaskier waited for him to figure it out. If he wanted out of this mess, he could damn well find the words.</p><p>“I’m sorry. I should never have said that to you. You…” Geralt turned back to him looking deeply, miserably uncomfortable. “You’re my friend. I care... about you. I… missed you.”</p><p>Jaskier gaped at him. “You--<i>that’s</i> what it took? To get you to call me your friend?”</p><p>Geralt winced. “I should have called you my friend years ago. It’s been true for decades.”</p><p>“Fuck. That’s the nicest I’ve heard you say the entire time I’ve known you. What would happen if I fucked Eskel? Would you compliment my singing? Confess your undying love?”</p><p>“Don’t,” Geralt snapped. Then added, “Please.”</p><p>Jaskier softened a little. “I won’t.”</p><p>Geralt seemed to have used up all the words at his disposal, but his eyes spoke still, just a little hopeful when he grunted in response.</p><p>“Where do we go from here, Geralt?”</p><p>“We?”</p><p>“If you’d like.”</p><p>Geralt looked like a mountain had been lifted from his shoulders. Their mountain. Jaskier couldn’t help a smile. “You’d come with me again?”</p><p>“If you’d like.”</p><p>It was apparently enough encouragement. </p><p>“I would,” Geralt said as he crowded closer, backing Jaskier up against the wall. “I would like that.”</p><p>Jaskier was having trouble catching his breath. Geralt’s arms bracketed him in. There was something hungry in Geralt’s eyes that lit a flutter in the pit of his stomach.</p><p>“Lambert told me something else.”</p><p>“Oh?” Jaskier asked, breathily.</p><p>Geralt scooped in to catch Jaskier’s lips in a burning kiss, deep and biting until Jaskier had completely lost the train of the conversation by the time Geralt pulled back and growled, “He said it was my name you were screaming.”</p><p>Jaskier owed Lambert a dozen songs. He would sing that man’s praises for months after this. He deserved it. And if the jealousy caused Geralt’s competitive nature to come out, got marks bitten into his neck like Geralt was trying to prove something… well, that was one hell of a bonus.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Let me know how Lambert is! I had a hell of a time writing him, especially since he insisted on being the POV character.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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